My Greatest Fear
by GroovyKat
Summary: An Answer to a challenge over at Gatchamania, which was to write the first kiss between two birdies. I think I messed it up a little, but it's in there somewhere. Anyhoo ... Mark tries to answer the question of whether or not he's ever felt fear.


This is a strange one. A challenge over at Gatchamania was issued and I figured I'd give it a shot. Of course, being the long-winded idiot that I am, I fear I may have over-written and sadly warped the challenge our girls over at Gatch had really wanted.

But, hell. I wrote something so I figured I'd share it.

It's been a long time since I've had the time to sit and write, and I do have many extra chapters of my other fics either written or half written waiting for attention… I think I've found my swing again, so perhaps I shall get back at it…

Oh the challenge? Write the "first kiss" between two birdies. And you know me, who else would I choose but and Eagle and Swan union?

I hope you enjoy….

GK

Oh, and yeah … I don't own the birdies. I'm just borrowing them a while.

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**My Greatest Fear.**

I've been asked many times throughout my service as Commander of G-Force if there were any moments that I was truly scared.

Scared?

There seems to be some morbid kind of fascination about fear and whether or not I've ever really felt it. Reporters, fans, even the compound technicians seem somewhat drawn to this oft hidden side of me. I do feel it – hell, I wouldn't be human if I didn't – but I am not of the personality type to ever actually need show it. Be that because the enemy can sniff it like a fart in the wind and use that to their advantage, or because I simply have this ironclad reputation that simply must be upheld at all costs – lest the world realize that their hero is actually human – it's there. Of course it's there. I don't lead my team into the deepest, darkest, pits of hell with the imminent threat of death and destruction with a complete sense of immortality and power. I'm not superman.

…Even he, I'm sure, had his moments of total and utter fear.

I've been scared more times than I ever want to admit: When Princess was taken by the flowers; when Keyop was kidnapped by one of his little pets; when Tiny's heroic Phoenix eruptions into the base of the day was a second later than expected; whenever Jason got moody and took off on his own. I've been scared, of course I have. These guys are so much more than just subordinates and work mates. They're family. If I lost even one of them I am sure my world would crumble and fall apart.

…But that's all fear that I see as justified, a fear that is part and parcel of being their leader. I can't let that eat me alive and stain my every waking moment. I accept that those moments will come; that they will alter my command and the mission parameters. It is fear that becomes a test of my resolve and effectiveness as team leader.

So I suppose I can't truly list any of them as moments of fear that has paralyzed me in place – the fear I am sure these askers refer to.

Well then, that said: Have I experienced such mortifying fear?

…Yes. I have.

Shockingly, however, is that my deepest fear, the one that froze me in place and threatened to consume my entire being, was not work-related at all.

…Well, perhaps it could mildly be classed as such given that the person creating this emotion was my third in command.

You may be confused. To some degree I am, also. She is by no means a frightening person … well, unless of course you wear green and man the closest Spectran base we happen to be attacking.

The situation wasn't so work related, although at the compound, in fact it happened before I even knew what the word "Spectran" even meant.

I was sixteen at the time; she was fourteen. It was at the tail-end of six months of rigorous training that had us all only a breath's grasp from collapse. Sleep had been deliberately denied, nourishment was horribly minimalized. Our psyches had been attacked and belittled, and our nerves stretched and tightened.

It had been a new conditioning technique the training department had created to ensure we had the strength to really go out there and take every physical and emotional punishment any enemy could offer. It was cruel, it was humiliating. To us we had been taken over by the enemy. Any sort of normalcy we had until this point had been rudely snatched from us. We were told that we were no longer friends and family – we were now officially soldiers. There was no time for frivolous activities or needs. We were to believe we were robots, no weakness, no human needs.

They later realized this regime to be bullshit – or more aptly they were advised it was bullshit once Chief Anderson got wind of it. He tore a few new holes in the Federation heads when he found Jason passed out and half emaciated on the ready-room floor.

But I digress.

On this particular occasion – before the cessation of hell – we had just completed a rather aggressive sparring session in the main training room with Jason and Tiny. Princess was distracted and managed to find her face in the direct swing trajectory of Jason's heel as he spun to kick at the punch pads in her hands.

It wasn't his fault – not in the slightest – but I immediately shot at him as though it was. As she hit the mat and cupped her chin in her hands, I was on top of Jason laying a couple of deliberate fists into his head. Jason obviously had the same mind-set as I did and pretty much lay there are took whatever I had to offer him. It wasn't until I saw the glimmer of tears spill from his closed eyes that I stopped. I pulled back in complete shock at what I'd done. I stared, mortified, at my reddened knuckles as he curled himself into a ball and groaned his apologies.

Princess immediately slid in between us and wrapped her tiny body around Jason. I heard her tearfully ask him if he was all right and assure him that it wasn't his fault.

The next thing I knew, Princess was shoved against me as Jason half seizured his body to escape the scene. He growled his displeasure at having to spar with a girl and stalked out of the room.

I could feel Princess tense against me in what I knew was hurt. I looked up at Tiny and begged him with a look to go after Jason. Mercifully he did. I knew that Princess was only hanging onto composure by a thread, and I wanted to give her the privacy to break down and let it out. I ran my hands over her sweated and unwashed hair, gave her a wink of support and rose to my feet to leave the room.

"I think we all just need to sleep," I grunted somewhat discompassionately as I took a loud breath and closed my eyes. Sleep felt like it would take me that instant, and I almost willingly allowed it to, but it staved off with her soft voice calling my name.

"Please don't leave."

Her voice was so soft that I still don't believe she actually said it. I was sure it was an impending dream waiting in the wings for sleep to come that had said that. But I still let my eyes fall lazily toward her to watch as she slowly drew herself to her feet and lightly flicked her finger tips over her thighs as though dirty.

"I'll stay if you want to," I managed sheepishly in response just in case my mind hadn't been tricking me.

She slowly pulled herself into a crouch and pressed her hands into the mat. The vision of her supported only on her toes and fingertips as she dropped her head into a small gap between her raised knees honestly broke my heart. To me it was a position of defeat. She looked ready to collapse. I had to drop to my knees beside her.

"Princess, are you okay?"

It was a stupid question and I knew it. It was obvious that she wasn't.

"I'll be okay," she assured me in a breathless voice that seemed to hold much more strength than her body appeared to. "I have to be, don't I?"

My breath caught in my throat as she raised her head to look into my face. I focused on a swelling red lump forming on her jaw and frowned.

"We should talk to the Chief about some down-time. Maybe even just enough time to take a shower and get clean."

Her shoulders began to jerk a little and for a moment I feared she was about to lose whatever composure she had. I nearly panicked and began to stammer a string of nonsensical words that I cannot remember. I know my eyes weren't on hers at that moment; that much was obvious when I felt the feathery touch of her fingers on my cheek to coax my attention on her. She wasn't about to cry, if anything she looked like she wanted to chuckle.

I know she said something to me in response, but I didn't register it. All I managed to absorb was the intense shattering array of green hues that filled her eyes. There were shades of my new favourite colour inside her that I don't believe even Da Vinci himself could have replicated. Intense, brilliant, and hauntingly divine. I swore I could see the answer to life itself and stared at her as though looking away would blind me forever. All I could do was nod and agree to whatever words may have spilled from between her lips.

"So you do think I stink?"

That was what finally brought me to my senses. "Stink?" I asked finally with an expression that must've looked as dumb as I felt.

"I try to tell you what's wrong, and you suddenly comment that we need time to shower," she replied with a smirk.

I blinked in confusion – did I really say that?

She giggled into her hands. "You weren't listening to a word I said were you?"

"I have to be honest, Princess. I wasn't."

Her giggle became a frustrated humph and she fell back onto her butt with a roll of her eyes. "Typical. Noone listens to me."

I had to try and save face. "No. Princess. I listen. I do. I always listen."

Her head angled in an overt display of disbelief. "You just told me you weren't listening to me."

"Uh, yeah." Yeah, real stupid, Mark.

A small smile played at the corner of her mouth. "Just that one time, right?"

"I was distracted."

Her eyes shot wide. "By what?"

This is where I felt the first little tingle of fear. Did I really want to admit just what had distracted me, or did I want to lie and tell her I was just tired? The latter might not be a total lie – I was tired – but that was hardly my source of distraction at that particular moment.

I cleared my throat and opted to attempt honesty – of sorts.

"You have beautiful eyes."

I had heard the expression "A Dear Caught in the Headlights" before, but I had not actually seen it for myself. If at that moment I were to imagine what such a vision might take, I would hazard a guess it was the expression that crossed her features right about then. It was a fleeting expression, however, one that almost immediately morphed into one of embarrassment.

"Oh," she breathed so low I could barely hear her. "Thank you, Mark. You have nice eyes too."

While flattered by her response, I found it unnecessary. The furthest thing I had been trying to do was fish for compliments from her – but it warmed me none-the-less. Of course I understood it to be just the embarrassed response of someone who didn't know how else to react to such an out of the blue compliment.

I refused to belittle her compliment by admitting such however. Instead I rose a confident hand to her cheek and tilted my head with a smile as her eyes again rose to mine. My intention had been to assure her, and the commander within me rose to the front to give her all the assurance she needed.

I could totally pull /that/ off.

Then I saw the askance in her eyes; the one question no man wants asked when he is unsure of the answer. Her eyes asked me if I "liked" her … in /that/ way.

And so then the coward within began to push past the confidence. That fear I was only realizing I had crept across my psyche. It was only because I didn't want to offend or startle her that I kept my hand securely against her cheek … slowly burning … slowly burning.

Of course I liked her in /that/ way. I had since my body had realized that girls were more than just little dolls you want to protect from harm. That moment of puberty when you stop and notice that the little girl you once liked as a playmate was now on your mind as something more … of a … playmate.

Ahem.

I was okay with that. So long as I didn't have to admit it. I could envision doing things that I didn't yet fully understand with her. Dirty, naughty little things I only ever saw on TV. Okay.

…So long as she didn't know about it.

And so I froze. She wanted me to actually admit it. No. No. No. I couldn't actually be expected to admit it could I?

I could sense her shame immediately. Her eyes widened and her face reddened. My own expression must have given away my cowardice/shame/whatever it was, and she seemed to read it perfectly.

So I did the only thing that seemed to make any sense to save the situation – to save her hurt.

…I kissed her.

It was fast; a snap of the head that pressed my lips firmly against hers. It was little more than closed lips against closed lips, but it was a kiss all the same. My eyes were wide and petrified as I analyzed her expression fully expecting to see stark shock and disgust.

I saw shock. Absolutely I saw it. Surprise, unsuredness, confusion, it was all there.

And then her mouth opened.

I have no definite answer to the question of why her mouth opened. While I, to this day, want to believe it was invitation to take the moment another little step forward, I know it wasn't. While my heart believes her mouth was requesting more, my intelligence suggests that it was shock that made her do it. A gasp if you will. I've run the scenario through my mind a million times since that moment and watched myself in the mirror as I motion through the different expressions of shock and surprise. Almost all of them result in a gaped mouth through which one might inhale sharply.

I've also analyzed Princess in every moment she's been surprised. Every time she gets that emotion her mouth will part somewhat.

Regardless of why her lips parted against mine, I took it as an invitation to take it further. When I felt the wetted inside of her lips graze against the dry edges of mine I immediately tilted my head to follow her mouth's movement. I suckled against her mouth, dryly opening and closing my mouth against hers hoping beyond all hope that her jaw might roll along with mine. My eyes were still wide and affixed on hers. I still desperately sought something in her expression to ask for more, or for her to push me away and tell me to stop.

Fortunately the latter did not happen. The white fire of surprise inside those green eyes of hers dimmed and softened. I felt her relax and breathe into me as her eyes lethargically closed. I heard the softest purr ghost out through her nose and felt myself fall softly into the same relaxation.

Still our mouths just opened and closed against each other. Dry, soft, rolling together.

It was nice.

And then … I tasted her.

I'd never really given a thought before about the taste of saliva. It's obviously in my mouth twenty-four-seven, but I'd never really sat back and considered that it might actually have a taste. I had no real reason to. But when Princess pressed her mouth harder against mine, and opened herself wider to me, I felt the tiniest morsel of moisture wet the inside of my mouth. It was only a little, like a cotton swab wetted to wash across cry and cracked lips, but the taste was definite.

Water. It was just like water. Water with the slightest hint of sweetness and chill to it. Immediately I felt a massive thirst. I simply had to drink in every ounce of her. The hand I held so tenderly against her cheek shifted, grazed, behind her head into her mussed hair. I clutched a damp handful of it and pulled her up against me. My other arm slid around her waist and I angled my head further to try to dive deeper within her. I needed more of it; of that delicious taste; and so I dipped my tongue into her mouth.

Words simply cannot accurately convey the feeling that threw me into absolute succumbing as my tongue stroked against hers, nor of the sudden need to want to give her my very soul if she asked. The commander becoming the subordinate…

…That thought gave me pause, and in mid roll of my mouth on hers I suddenly lost my ability to breathe. She had the power to make me give her everything I had and everything I was…

…with a single kiss!

What would her offering me the pleasures of her innocence do to me? I didn't want to know. I was too scared to find out.

I jerked back from her – kind of. My body arched away from her, but my mouth retained its hold. I pushed against her shoulders to escape, but my lips continued to seek her out. My knees shuffled on the floor to back away and yet my mouth still adhered to hers.

"No. no," I pleaded into her mouth. "We can't…"

She shook her head to separate our mouths and shuffled backward herself. Her eyes were wide and confused as she pressed her fingers against her lips as though to check that they were still there. "Mark?"

I stumbled forward at her movement, which was too much for my weakened arms. My palms fell onto and clawed at the blue mat as my wrists gave way to make me stumble awkwardly onto my elbows. I know I looked a sight, with my ass in the air and my chest on the mat, but I hardly cared for the positioning. I quickly raised my head to look into her face.

"Oh, Prin. I'm sorry."

I expected her to cry; to get up and run; to do anything to tell me she was hurt and embarrassed. To my surprise, however, she began to laugh.

It began as a girlish giggle into her fingers, but quickly grew into a hot and hearty laugh - one of which I'd never heard from her before. Her whole body seemed to give in to her laugh, and quickly she was a shaking mass of limbs and black hair. As messy and dishevelled as it was, the sight was the most beautiful I had ever seen. It didn't take me long to join in with her.

After a short while, and considerable loud snorts of desperate inhales, she finally crawled along the mat toward me.

"Well. You certainly know exactly how to refresh a girl's energy, don't you Commander?"

I thread an arm across her shoulder and let the final trembles of laughter rock themselves out of me. "Do you think the technical teams should know this new technique and add it to the training schedule?"

Her lips pursed and her eyes rolled as though she was seriously considering letting me do just that. I had to clear my throat to get her to stop.

"No, Mark," she said with a smile. "But I'm happy to do some more one-on-one training with you to perfect the technique if you like."

I felt a flutter in my belly at her suggestion. Initially I thought the fear of the moment was creeping back in. I slid my eyes to her in wonder and found the fluttering cease as I caught sight of her light smile.

"Perhaps I can fit some more training in later."

She nodded and gave a small snuggle against my chest. "Hours to be logged, Commander?"

A voice in the hallway delayed my answer to her question. We quickly separated and drew ourselves to a stand as the head trainer appeared in the doorway with a demand to attend class down the hallway.

That certainly wasn't the last time that I had leaned forward to press my lips against hers. It wasn't the only time she drew sheer terror from me as I approached the firsts of many first we'd share together.

I feared the first time we kissed. The first time we made love. When I asked her to move in with me, and then to become my wife.

More than anything, the fear of who I would be without her is the greatest fear I have. She's been a part of me since we were kids. I have been scared – am scared – that one day inevitability will part us.

So you ask me if I've ever felt fear.

Yes. Yes I have. It's a fear not so much because of who I am, but because of who I'm a part of. It's a fear not necessarily … well … scared … But it's fear all the same.

I hope that answers the question.


End file.
